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The Story of my Twins

Who am I?

I cannot believe it has been a year.  How does time fly like that?  This day a year ago I still had my babies in my belly.  They were dead, but they were there.  Tomorrow a year ago I birthed and buried my babies.  There are roses on their memorial marker bush right now.

Okay, so a quick glance at the past year starting on D-day, July 29th 2009 – babies gone.  After that we had the birthing conference, I attended several births as a doula, my relationship ended, I supported my best friend through her birthing experience, my Grandma died and we buried her and my brother together.  So… just a recap, lost my babies, lost my love and lost my Grandma.  Not to mention, I think the population of twins has increased trifold in the past year, I see them everywhere!!

Things happen in 3’s right?  So, does that mean that things are going to be fabulous now?  I’ve already had the 3 bad things happen, so it must being going up now I suppose.

And what will I do tomorrow?  Well, a visit with a friend, some babysitting and more visiting.  How will I honor my babies?  I’ll probably light a candle for them and definitely their garden candles.  I was at the beach last week and just thought to myself, “I would have 2 little 5-6 month old babies right now, playing at the beach”.  They’d be trying to eat the sand and probably just learning to sit up.  I would probably wrap them both up in a water wrap and giver in to the water.  Anyways, I just couldn’t believe how life looked in my little daydream.

And here’s to next year!  Here’s to a new start and a new me.  Here’s to life and those lives lost.

Cheers!

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My Grandma died on the 20th.

Believe it or not, I am a little shocked.  Yes, she was old, 88 to be exact, but she seemed so young just a couple months ago.  Turned out that she had cancer, all over.  So just over a week ago my mother, myself and the 2 littlest kiddos drove 12 hours to Winnipeg to see her.  By the time we arrived she was unconscious from pain killers and never did regain consciousness well enough for us to talk.

I find that people generally brush off the death of an old person because they’re so old, and that is what made me decide to post here.  Loss is loss.  Regardless of age.  Just like gestation.  Whether your baby/babies were 1 week, 6 weeks, 10 weeks, 7 months, etc., etc., when you lost them, it’s still a loss.  And now, even though my Grandma was 88, I still feel a great loss.  I spent every summer with her while I was growing up, I would literally live with her for 2 months.  Our whole family has lost such a fabulous woman.  I’m not going to lie, it is a little different, I experience loss very differently depending on who it is, being my babies, my brother, my cousin, a friend or my Grandma…  and also how it occurs influences my reaction.  But regardless of the reaction, it’s still a loss to be respected.

So, on Saturday we will bury my Grandma’s ashes, and now this will shock you, but we’re also going to bury my brother’s ashes too.  Right there with my Grandma.  My brother died 12 years ago and my Mom has held on to his ashes until now.  So, in a couple days he will finally be laid to rest, with one of the most influencial people in his life (our Grandma).

Life is so wierd… so confusing… and yet can be so empowering at times.

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A week ago I picked up a box at the post office.  It was a box that I was anticipating, yet had absolutely no idea when it would arrive.  It has been months.  I picked it up right before I was scheduled to leave for camping so decided not to open the box, expecting that I may not be able to dedicate myself to it quite yet.

So on Monday I open the box.  In it I find a gnome (yes, that’s right, a gnome), a small gnome travel journal, a bag of pebbles with footprints on them and the art journal.  On the cover it says “Still 365″.  The art journal is being sent all over the world (beginning with Still 365) to mothers who have lost babies to miscarriage, stillbirth and/or neonatal death.  It is a book full of hurt, anger, sadness, love, happiness and all things that come with a pregnancy and then the loss of the baby, all in art form.  Looking through the book I am blown away by the work put in to it, there are paintings, mosaics, paper clippings and poems.  I wanted to take pictures of what was inside, but I felt I would be stealing something that is somewhat too sacred for a blog.

It is my turn… my turn to put my feelings in to art.  To dig a little bit and find what I have been feeling.  Seems I’ve kinda learnt to numb myself and push my feelings deep deep deep in to the darkness of what I have become.  I have expressed myself through art before with the art therapy, so the concept was comfortable for me.  This is what I did with chalks:

It felt good to get it out, to touch the chalks and then to vigorously smudge them with tissue.  It felt good to add that tiny bit of glimmer to my two little hearts, it felt…  well, I just felt… and that is good in and of itself right now.

Now, on to the gnome.  Yes, I know you probably thought I was joking, but seriously, there was a gnome.  I love gnomes.  Infact, on my fridge I have a magnet with a picture of some gnomes and it says, “chillin’ with my gnomies”.  I love that magnet.  I desperately want a garden gnome and have secretly dreamt about someone stealing my gnome and then returning him months later with a picture journal.  There you have it, you know yet another deep dark secret about me, I love gnomes.

This little mini pint gnome was carrying a suitcase and I took a pic of him in my flowers.

I am mailing the journal out tomorrow, on to the next broken soul who will pour their feelings in to art.  I hope to see it when it is complete.  The traveling journal was such a great experience.

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I went shopping a couple weeks ago and bought a boat load of feel good panties.  Now, don’t confuse these with panties that feel good, because they don’t really.  But they have that magical ability to make me “feel good”.  They’re those panties that you buy when you want to feel sexy and wild and possibly even younger.  Like I could just rewind several years and instantly become my old self.  My old (well, young I guess) naive self.

So here I am, thinking I’m the only one that strives for that feeling that comes along with the “feel good” panties, and then I get my book order in the mail.  Monica Murphy Lemoine from Knocked Up, Knocked Down has written a book, titled “Knocked Up, Knocked Down” (go figure, LOL) and of course I had to order it.  There’s a good chance that I have the majority of miscarriage/loss books out there. 

The first few pages of the book are in a chapter called “Panty Focus” and she refers to the panties as “a bold expression of feminine hope and defiance” and the “magical and life giving g-string”.  OKAY!  I’m not the only one!!  What a relief, cause I was starting to wonder.  I haven’t read much more of the book yet, but it has been a good read so far and I plan to finish it soon.

So I’m thinking that everyone should probably have a pair of “feel good” panties.  Imagine if all our hurts could be cured just by panties, okay I know I’m stretching it a bit, but it’s a nice thought.

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When I started this blog, it was really just to connect with all the cyber-babyloss-mamas out there who seemed to “get it”.  It was created to share my thoughts and feelings unedited unsensored and unjudged.  I only told 2 people IRL of the blog.  I actually had no intention of sharing it with people who knew me in real life, I thought I could maintain a tiny bit of annonymity.

Well, I have since been contacted 2 times in the past few days by people who are worried about me.  First off, thank you.  I do appreciate your concern, I truly do.  Please know that I am okay, this is my venting place and that’s what happens here.  I will gladly talk your ear off too.

So with that said, I’m wondering who actually is reading this blog that I know in real life.  So… if you’re feeling brave, comment.  I will most likely be sensoring the blog regardless, but I’m just interested to know how far the news spread.

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I bought this book a while back (probably about 4-5 months) and for some reason just put it on the shelf. I didn’t read it, but just looked at the cover. A few nights ago, my oldest daughter grabbed it off the shelf and requested I read it to her. Now, this is the 2nd or 3rd time she’s requested, but this was the first time I read it. I don’t know why I didn’t read it to her before, I suppose I was a little worried what our reactions would be.

I was fine, just fine… until halfway through the story when they go in to detail about what constitutes tear soup. Referencing a dead baby and also a divorce, I couldn’t help but shed a tear. F asks, “why are you crying?”, and I reply, “it’s a sad story, don’t ya think?”. She answers with, “read the book!”.

I learnt something with this book. I learnt that my tear soup for my twins is still simmering and I also learnt that I need to add some items to the soup, for my pot just got a whole lot bigger with the impending separation. I realized that my pot of tear soup is actually so big that it may take a lot longer then I anticipated to cook.

Reading the book helped me to recognize that grief is unique to each individual and it is important for me to honor the process I need to take, like making soup… tear soup to be exact. And I understand that I may be the only one who will eat my tear soup and that other’s may not like it at all. I need to deal with that.

Whatever the case, the book affected me more then I anticipated and here I am, back to making tear soup. Anyone up for a bowl?

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It’s been a while, but I’m still here.

To be completely brutally honest, I am here, but barely. My life is so upsidedown right now that I can’t seem to keep up on anything. Everyone seems to be having twins, which is killing me, but I cannot dwell. My relationship is pretty much over and I’m kind of in survival mode. I’m so sad.

This past month (hell, the past 2 1/2 months) has been so difficult. I wonder what my life would be like if I had my babies. Would I be happy? Would I be snuggling two little ones, smelling the sweet smell of their baby heads? Learning how to breastfeed two? Learning to wrap and wear two? Loving two? Of course.

But no… I’m planning a move with four children, trying to figure out custody and child support and all the while trying to figure out why my partner can’t love me. Trying to figure out why he can’t put his family before the party and the alcohol and the drugs. Trying to figure out why I can’t speak without being thrown out of the house.

I’ll stop now as I could probably go on forever and would not want to bore you with the knitty gritty details. Just know that I am still here, still sad, still morning, and still wishing my babies were here. But I am starting a new chapter in my life, yet again, and hope to live to tell…

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I miss you
Miss you so bad
I don’t forget you
Oh it’s so sad.

I hope you can hear me
I remember it clearly.

The day you slipped away…..
Was the day i found
It, won’t be the same
Oh

Na na
Na na na na na

I didn’t get around to kiss you
Goodbye on the hand
I wish that I could see you again
I know that I can’t ooooooooooooh
I hope you can hear me
Cause I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away…
Was the day i found
It, won’t be the same
Oh

I’ve had my wake up
Won’t you wake up
I keep asking why.
And I can’t take it
It wasn’t fake it
It happened you passed by

Now you’re gone
Now you’re gone
There you go
There you go
Somewhere I can’t bring you back
Now you’re gone
Now you’re gone
There you go
There you go
Somewhere you’re not coming back

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When I was expecting my first baby a friend of mine threw me a baby shower.  It was great… we ate chocolate ice cream out of diapers, measured my belly with toilet paper, and of course receive 101 gifts for expected baby.  I can remember my mother asking me why on earth I would be having a baby shower and I was shocked.  Well, she said, “because you never know what is going to happen”.  I chalked it up to her being extremely negative and carried on my usual naive way.

My first baby came just fine.  Fast forward to the twins.  Well, it was too early to even think about a baby shower, but now I am questioning the celebration all together (well, more so the timing of it).  I went to a baby shower on the weekend for a friend (the friend who found out she was expecting 4 weeks after me), I picked out a card and stared at it blankly.  What exactly was I supposed to write?!  “Congratulations on making it this far”?  Or maybe, “Good luck”?  After a while I ended up putting something like, “Happy Baby Shower Day”  and “I can’t wait to meet your little one”. 

I now understand why people don’t have baby showers before the baby comes.  Who wants a whole house full of new baby stuff if they lose their baby?  No one.  Am I being negative?  Hell no!  I’m being realistic here.  MOMS LOSE BABIES!!!  It happens and I hate it, but it still happens.  What about a Blessingway?  I think that might be a better celebration to have before baby comes, focusing more so on the mom and the changes about to take place in her life.  I found this blog where the author posts about her blessingway that she had after losing a baby. 

So, from this day forward I vow to never throw a baby shower for someone who has not had their baby yet!  I will however organize blessingways.  That is, of course, if my little corner of the world ever catches up to the rest of the world and figures out what a blessingway is, LOL!

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Hello… My name is Andrea and I am a HPT-aholic.

Even when I don’t have a chance of being pregnant, I still pick up a HPT just to “make sure”.  BUT… if there’s even a slight glimmer of hope that I may be growing a little bean, well, watch out.  I don’t just pick up 1 HPT, but I’ll pick up many.  No, I’m sorry, you don’t get the exact #, it’s different every time and almost embarassing.  I mean totally embarassing.

I test at 8 days DPO (or maybe earlier if I can’t wait, and yes, I understand there is no point to testing earlier then that), then the next day, and the next.  And so on until AF arrives.  The $ store sells them for extremely cheap, so sometimes I stock up on them, but mostly I like the “Early Response” kind. 

Now, you may laugh at this or just think I’m a complete moron, but I have even pee’d on a stick knowing full well I was pregnant, infact I was well in to pregnancy.  I loved seeing the positive sign.

Am I the only one here who cannot control myself when it comes to HPTs?  I can’t be the only one, there’s even a site entirely dedicated to peeing on a stick… and go figure, it’s called, Pee On A Stick, LOL!

So that’s it, my confession for the week.

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